The Adventure of the Cardboard Box
by LittlePippin76
Summary: I'm using ACD's title, but the adventure is really secondary to the story here. The final part of the sequence I've been writing in which we finally see the birth of John's baby. I'm publishing it complete. Please read and review. Pip xxx
1. Chapter 1

**Hi. So I missed my own deadline; I should have started publishing this on Friday. By way of apology, I'm publishing the whole thing at once. Today. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Pip xxx**

* * *

Chapter One

John sat in the armchair, staring at the newspaper spread open on his lap. He'd been doing this for a while when he suddenly closed the paper, flung it to the floor and sighed, loudly.

"You're right," Sherlock said, from where he was working on his computer at the desk. "You're not remotely old fashioned, not as a doctor or as a person."

"Bloody right I'm not!" John yelled. Then he frowned. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Child's play."

"No, come on, that was frankly weird!"

Sherlock looked away from the computer and smiled at him. "John, you haven't turned a page for the past twenty-five minutes. It's The Guardian; it's not exactly high literature! Deduction: You're not reading the newspaper. You _were_, but your mind wandered. Where could it possibly have wandered to today, when your wife is due to give birth in ten days' time? Oh, you were thinking about Mary and your future daughter of course! And then your mind strayed to Mary who has gone shopping today with someone who is not you. You're available for shopping, and you're _you_, so unable to stop fretting and fussing about people you care about. I assume that you asked to go with her, which annoyed Mary, as she's desperate for a little respite and fun at the moment. You expressed your concern about her, which annoyed her further. She's mentioned before in my hearing that you're very old fashioned for a doctor, though only in jest. I imagine that today, when you're both thoroughly bored of the pregnancy, she used this statement again, though more seriously this time."

John glared at him for a moment. "Nobody like's a clever dick, Sherlock."

Sherlock shrugged and smiled. "You do." He was pleased when John smiled too. "To be honest, I could tell that you'd had an argument to moment you stepped through the door, but you asked for the deduction and that was it."

John shook his head and sighed. "Sherlock, what if I'm a terrible father? What if, I don't know, what if I meet my baby and fail to feel anything for it at all? What if I just can't do it? What happens then?"

Sherlock shook his head and turned back to his computer.

"What?" John demanded.

"I'm sorry, I thought your question was so ridiculous it wasn't worthy of an answer."

John pulled his duck face and folded his arms.

Sherlock smiled again. "What do you want me to say, John? I could tell you 'of course you'll be a brilliant father', but I have no more data than you do. I would remind you of something I told you years and years ago though; you display all of the main attributes of a good father, even though you're not one yet. I don't imagine they're all going to disappear suddenly when your child is born."

John smiled. "Thank you."

"Once again, I'm not sure I meant it as a compliment."

"I don't care. I'm choosing to believe that you did." They smiled at each other.

"I hate the waiting," John said. "It's far, far too long to wait."

"Mm. I hate that you're waiting too. You're extremely boring at the moment."

John laughed. "Shall I make us some tea?"

"Well I'm not going to." His phone rang. "Lestrade, how can I help you today?" He listened for a while. "That does sound… interesting. Text me the address." He hung up. "Guess what? We've got a case!"

"No, you've got a case."

"Yes, but you're coming with me."

"No, I have to stick around in case Mary needs me."

Sherlock got up and started putting on his scarf and coat. "No you have to come with me so you don't drive yourself mad wondering what's happening with Mary. It's Wandsworth, it's not Timbuktu. You can get home as quickly as you could from work. Well, nearly."

"Sherlock…" John started.

"Oh come on, John! When are we ever going to get the chance to do this again?"

"Well, I'm guessing you're just going to come and drag me off whenever you fancy it, whether I'm busy with my child or not." He smiled a challenge.

Sherlock blinked but then rallied. "A pair of ears has been mailed to someone _through the post,_ John! I fail to accept that sitting around here in the vague hope that something happens to Mary is more exciting than ears that have been sent through the post!"

John sighed. "OK, fine, I'll come, but I might need to leave at any time. Sherlock, I will kill you if I miss the birth of my child."

"You won't miss anything. There are ten days to go, and I will make sure you're able to leave at any point if you need to. Now come on, you're wasting time."

oOo

When they reached the address in Wandsworth, they found Lestrade leaning against the garden wall. Sherlock frowned as he walked up to him.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Well, the owner of the house is a bit… overwrought. I came out here for a cigarette."

Sherlock frowned. "You're not smoking a cigarette."

"Well no. I don't smoke."

"Fine, good. Where are the ears?"

"They're here." He handed a small box and some brown paper to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked delighted as he put them down on the wall. "It's a gift box for a parker pen," he said. "It's an old style box though, from the nineties I would think." He opened it carefully. "Ears!" He grinned. "Wait a moment, Lestrade, you said they were a pair of ears."

"Yes. A pair of ears mailed through the post."

"John, what do you see in the box?"

John looked. "Ears. Two ears. Two separate ears belonging to two separate people."

Lestrade frowned. "How can you tell? I suppose they are a bit different but couldn't that be explained because they were, er, hacked off. Not neatly I mean."

"Lestrade," Sherlock said, "They are different in colour and size. One is a man's ear and one is a woman's. And John's first clue was…"

"They're both left ears," John said.

"Quite a clever trick that," Sherlock said. "Having two left ears."

"Bloody hell," Lestrade muttered. "Fine, I'm stupid, well done. Do you want to talk to Miss Susan Cushing at all? She's the woman they were mailed to."

"Not really, no. I suppose I ought to though." He stuffed the box with the ears into his coat pocket and walked up the garden path. He knocked. As a smallish, middle aged woman opened the door, he did a double take, looked at John with an incredulous look on his face, and choked back a laugh.

It was less than a second before his more professional veneer reappeared.

"Miss Cushing?"

"Yes. Are you the investigator that he wanted to come down?" She nodded at Lestrade.

"Yes, and this is my colleague, Doctor Watson."

"I didn't want to say it all over and over. I wanted to wait and get it done at once."

"Very sensible. May we come in?"

She nodded and they followed her into a lounge. Sherlock briefly looked around at the bookshelves and the pictures on the wall before he sat down.

"Miss Cushing, can you explain to me what happened?"

"Well. I got up this morning and when I picked up the post there was a package, and I opened it, and there were… ears! Oh, you haven't brought them back in the house again have you?"

"No, no, we've already sent them to the lab," Sherlock said. "Can I ask if you have any idea where they may have come from?"

"Yes. The students sent them to me I'm sure!"

"The students?"

"Yes. I used to let the upstairs rooms out to students. I had three medical students here until a month or so ago, and they were noisy and rowdy and I had to ask them to leave."

"Yes, I've heard medical students can be quite undisciplined."

"Well," Lestrade said quietly, "Medical students would have access to…" he whispered, "_ears_, and that sort of thing."

"Oh, yeah," John said. "I spent all my time just playing with bits of dead people." He shook his head, then looked up and noticed Miss Cushing looking at him with an expression of horror on her face. "Sorry. I mean, not really." He blushed and went quiet.

"Miss Cushing," Sherlock said, "Can I ask when you last saw your sisters?"

"How did you know I had sisters?"

"You have photos of them."

"Oh, yes! I saw Sarah two weeks ago. I haven't seen Mary in a while. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. The case seems fairly straight forward, but I am interested. I like people."

"Oh. Well you wouldn't like Sarah. Nobody does." She sighed. "Look, I was probably a bit unfair to the students. Sarah needed to come home and she, well, she made me get rid of them so she could move back in with me."

Sherlock looked at her impassively.

"Well it wasn't my fault! Sarah can be quite… persuasive. She's always been the same, spoiled brat that she was. Three daughters but Daddy liked her best. She had pretty red hair you see and she always was considered the beautiful one. So she's used to getting her own way and seems to have just stopped taking no for an answer. She went off to Plymouth to live with Mary for a bit after Mary got married. She lived there a year but then they all fell out and James told her to leave. She rang me desperate and told me I had to get rid of the students. So I did. I'm so sorry. I've probably been wasting your time, haven't I?"

"I don't think so," Sherlock said.

"No," Lestrade agreed. "It is a crime to mail body parts through the post."

"Yes, contrary to popular belief, all transportation of any body parts involves strict procedures," John said. Sherlock stared at him and he went quiet again.

"Can you tell me how long your younger sister has been married? I'm assuming Mary is the youngest."

"Yes, she is. I'm the oldest and Sarah's in the middle. Let's see, James and Mary met, er, six years ago. He was besotted with her. I'm not surprised; Mary is a lovely girl."

"Yes she is," John agreed, and then blushed again. "Sorry."

"Well, they got together, and they got married five years ago…"

"That was quite quick, was it not?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, they were clearly in love and James is in the navy. He was being called away for a six-month tour. They got married just before. It was a small do. Mary stayed living here while he was away, but when he was back they moved into navy accommodation down at Plymouth. It was lovely! I visited them a few times before…" She sighed. "James was called away a second time. Sarah went to live with Mary for the time he was away. It was a longer tour; a whole year that time, and Mary got quite lonely. We'd always lived together you see, the three of us."

"But Sarah came home when James came back?" Sherlock asked.

"No, she didn't immediately. They all lived there together for nearly a year. I think things got bad though. Like I say, Sarah isn't the easiest person to live with. Eventually James had had enough of her and threw her out. She came back here for a while, but she was impossible. I'm afraid that three weeks ago I threw her out too."

"Where is she now?"

"She's gone to stay with a friend until they throw her out too. She's not easy. She's so manipulative. I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk about my sister this way, should I? But it's been a hard day."

"You said that Mary hadn't contacted you in a while."

"No. Well, she called to talk to Sarah the day after she'd moved back here, but Sarah wouldn't talk to her. Sarah called back the next day and said some…well, I don't know where she learned that language. Mary hasn't called since."

"Didn't you call her when Sarah left?"

"No. I didn't. I just didn't know what to do about it all and I thought that Mary and James ought to be left alone for a while to have a marriage."

"So you don't know if things had become better between them after Sarah left?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Can you give us the address of the friend Sarah's staying with?"

"Oh, yes. Why? She's not going to have anything to do with any of this is she? She's unkind most of the time, but she's wouldn't do something like this!"

"No, probably not. We can always come back later if we do find we need it."

"Oh please no! Here, I'll find it for you." She went to grab a small address book from a small table. She pulled out the whole page and handed it to Sherlock. "Here. I'm not going to want to talk to her again. She knows where I am if she wants me."

"Thank you," Sherlock said. He folded the paper and put it into his pocket. "Thank you for your time, Miss Cushing. Detective Inspector Lestrade will need you to fill in a witness statement. I'll be out of you way now. Come along John."

He stood up and left and John followed him.

"Well, that was interesting," he said to Sherlock when they were back on the pavement. "No, wait, no it wasn't. It was some odd backstory about a woman's life, with a bit of bitter jealousy thrown in and some medical students pulling a stupid prank."

Sherlock smiled at him. "I thought medical students wouldn't be allowed to do that sort of thing."

"Course they would. Hell, Sherlock, you're not even a medical student and you seem to turn up with all sorts of stuff you really shouldn't have."

"Well," Sherlock turned to him with an enigmatic smile, "I think…"

John's phone rang and he answered instantly. Sherlock rolled his eyes. The sneer turned to a frown when John froze and stammered into the phone.

"What do you mean?... Well how much?... OK, OK… well, let's not panic…. No I'm not… OK… OK… Well, I guess we'd better get going then. I'll meet you at the hospital."

He hung up and turned to Sherlock.

"Mary's in labour."

"Well that's just stupid! She's got ten days yet!"

John shook his head, blinking furiously. "No, well, I couldn't tell from what she was saying. Her waters have broken, so that's one thing. I didn't ask her if contractions had started though! Oh god, I'm rubbish! She said there was… there was blood." He staggered slightly and grabbed his chest. "Oh, shit, I think I'm going to throw up!"

"No you're not," Sherlock said sounding more confident than he felt. "What might the presence of blood signify?"

"Er, um, er, I don't know."

"Well if it was another person, what would you tell them?"

John swallowed hard. "It's probably the onset of labour, but go to hospital to check. But it might be, it might be…" He rubbed his forehead. "Oh God!"

"Don't be ridiculous, John! You've fought in wars! This is less stressful than that!" Sherlock said. He took John's arm and walked him to a low wall and sat him on it.

John took a couple of long slow breaths.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I'll call a cab for you."

John stared into space as Sherlock called a car service. As soon as Sherlock had hung up John jumped up and started pacing back and forth.

"I'm not going to panic about the blood until I really have to."

"OK. That sounds sensible."

"Damn, I should have asked her if she could feel the baby kicking." John looked at his phone. "No, I won't bother her now."

"OK. Good."

"Oh why am I in bloody Wandsworth! I shouldn't be in Wandsworth!"

"John, the car will be here in a minute. You'll be there soon."

"I know, I know… just… This is really strange!" He stopped and sat down and stared into space again.

Sherlock was on the point of calling the car service again when the taxi came into view and pulled in. John looked immensely relieved.

"Do you have cash?" Sherlock asked.

"Er…"

"Here." He handed a couple of twenty-pound notes across.

"Thanks. I'll call you as soon as there's news."

"I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Lestrade came out of the house to find Sherlock sitting on his own on the garden wall.

"Where's John?"

"Hospital."

"What? For the baby? Really? That's exciting!"

"Is it?"

"Well, yeah. Possibly. Probably for John. Anyhow, sorry for dragging you down here. If she'd have told me about the students and their prank straight away I wouldn't have bothered you."

"You're a moron."

"Thank you. Why?"

"The students didn't do this. It's not a prank, it's murder. It is, in fact a double homicide."

"Oh. OK. Well, are you still happy to help with the double homicide?"

"No."

"So you intend to sit around sulking until you hear from John?"

Sherlock turned to him with a snarl. "Shut up! It's nothing to do with John! It's just too easy for words!"

"OK then. Could you kindly tell me who committed the crime then?"

"No."

"Oh for god's sake, Sherlock!"

"No, _not yet_. I need to be sure. I need to send an email to a friend and when I've got the answer to that then I'll share it with you."

"What if he kills someone else?"

"He won't. It's not the work of a serial killer." He sighed. "I'm going home. I'll contact you when I have news."

"About John?"

"John? No, about the case."

"OK, well can you contact me with news either about the case or about John?"

"Greg, when John finally becomes a father, he'll probably call, text and email everyone he's ever met, and take out full page ads in all the papers to cover all the people he hasn't met too."

"OK, well, I'll speak to you soon either way."

"Fine." Sherlock stood up and walked away to find a cab. A few minutes later, Lestrade remembered Sherlock still had the ears and he chased after him. He was wheezing by the time he reached the high street and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.

oOo

Sherlock was awake early the following day and he checked his phone and his computer and was annoyed at the lack of texts and email. He hacked into John's email and facebook and was mildly settled by the fact that John hadn't contacted anyone else either. He looked around the empty flat for something to do, and he contemplated going downstairs to annoy Mrs Hudson for a while.

He was quite relieved when John walked into the room and sat down in the armchair that was still designated as his own. He didn't appear to have noticed Sherlock, and he stared at the coffee table.

Sherlock watched him for a moment.

"Good morning, John."

"Hi."

"Everything OK?"

"Yeah."

"Are you aware of the fact that you don't live here any more?"

"What? Course I am!"

"Sorry. It's just it's quite hard to work out just how insane you are at the moment. Are you a father yet?"

"No. Mary's not in labour. Well, not in full labour. Her waters have broken and she's had one or two mild contractions but nothing else. If it hasn't kicked off in a few hours they'll induce her."

"Induce her to do what?"

"To give birth, Sherlock!" He leapt up and paced across the room twice. On his return he marched up to the desk where Sherlock was still sitting.

"She threw me out!" he shouted.

Sherlock frowned. "Is it possible you're overstating the fact?"

"Well, apparently I'm not allowed to wait with her at home. Apparently, I'm too irritating for words and she'd be better off without me." He threw himself down the armchair again. Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but John hadn't finished. "I'm not irritating! Am I?"

"Well…"

"No! I'm not! Thank you! And I personally think a father should be allowed to see his own child! And she won't let me!"

"Has she said that you can't go back ever?"

"No! She said she'd call me when things were progressing!"

"So your tale of 'Mary's thrown me out and she won't let me see my own child', actually boils down to 'Mary wants a breather from me and she asked me to go for a walk'?"

John glared at him for a moment, and then he got up and threw himself face down onto the sofa. He was only there for a second before he got up again and stormed into the kitchen.

"I'm making tea!" he shouted. He filled the kettle, but left it on the worktop and returned to his armchair. "I hate everyone."

"Yes. So do I."

"You're stupid."

"John, is this how you were behaving at home? If so, I might be slowly creeping to Mary's side on the 'too irritating for words thing'."

John did another circuit of the sofa and the kitchen, this time managing to put the kettle on to boil. He came back to stare at Sherlock.

"What?" John said.

Sherlock smiled. "Do you want to see the ears?"

John sighed and glanced around the room for a moment. He sighed again. "Fine. Where are they?"

"In the kitchen, in the freezer."

John went back into the kitchen and stared at the kettle. "I can't see them."

Sherlock grinned and went into the kitchen too. He opened the freezer and retrieved the box of ears. He pushed John down onto a chair at the kitchen table and placed the box in front of him. He gave him some gloves and put some on himself. He sat down beside John and opened the box.

"You need to put the gloves on, John."

John mechanically put the gloves on. "The problem is, I don't know what she's feeling."

"Couldn't you just ask her? And then listen to the answer rather than making an assumption? Notice the coarse grain salt that the ears are packed in."

"Yeah. Salt. The thing is, I don't know if she's lying. About how she's feeling I mean."

"Does she regularly lie about that sort of thing? Let's be entirely methodical about this and start with the packaging. What does that tell us about the person who posted the box?"

John picked up the brown paper and looked at it. "Actually, she lies to me all the time! I hear so much 'I'm fine! Don't worry!' and then it turns out she's been in awful pain for the past few hours."

"Well, perhaps if you could tone down your concern a bit, she wouldn't feel the need to lie quite so much." He gently took the paper away from John. "This is waxed paper, and it's stiff, of good quality. It's the sort that's favoured by people who have to send many packages overseas where there might be more handling than normal paper might withstand. People in the armed services, for example."

"But I _am_ concerned. I can't help it! I can't switch it off!"

"No, nobody said you should turn it off entirely. Just calm down a little. Now, the post mark is from Portsmouth. Isn't that interesting? I'm sure you can see precisely what I'm thinking now!

John stared at him blankly.

Sherlock sighed. "Shall we move on to the ears? OK, this ear, the male ear, is very tanned. More so than you'd expect for someone who had been in the UK for the past few months. So this victim travelled abroad, and not just recently, he's been away a lot."

"That's nice."

"Yes. But this ear is the truly interesting one! Note the shorter helix and the longer lobe. They're quite fascinating distinctions. Now where might we have seen an ear like that in the past twenty-four hours or so?"

"Er, it's an ear. We all have them."

"Yes, but these distinctions are not so usual. John, this ear is an almost perfect match for Susan Cushings!"

"So?"

"John! The most likely owner of this ear would be a close relative of Susan Cushing! A close _female_ relative! It clearly belongs to one of her sisters. Or it did."

"OK."

"Now I've checked all the London hospital reports, and nobody showed up with a missing ear. Besides which, these ears were clearly taken from the victims post mortem, and Sarah Cushing was out shopping yesterday using her credit card. It could have been a stolen identity, but let's not muddy the water unnecessarily, let's assume that Sarah Cushing is still alive. There's only one other person this ear could belong to!"

There was another blank stare. "Who?"

"Mary, John! Mary! Mary is dead!"

"What? What are you saying!" John looked properly panicked. "She's not! She's alive!"

"OK, fine." Sherlock stood up and hoisted John up by the arm. He pulled him towards the sofa and pushed him onto it. "Lie down! Lie down now and calm down! John, you can't do this! You can't fall apart right now!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You! In a few hours, Mary is going to need your help! She's going to need you to be the calm, sensible, strong soldier-doctor that she married! And right now you're behaving like a moron and it isn't fair! She's on her own because you can't get your act together enough to behave in a sensible, calm, compassionate manner for the woman that you love! So you will lie there and calm down, and you will do it right now!" He turned and marched back to the kitchen and sat down with the ears.

John joined him again ten minutes later. He sat down quietly.

"Sorry."

"I'm not sure I'm the one who needs the apology."

"I have to admit, I didn't think it would feel like this. You're right; I've experienced high stress situations before. But this feels different. It feels bigger. And I feel terrified."

"Well it is the birth of your first child, John. I'm not oblivious to that."

"No. I know. I really want it to be over now. I just want to know they're both completely safe."

"Do you have any reason to believe they won't be?"

"No. They're very likely to be absolutely fine, but I want to take Mary's pulse and blood pressure and I want to hold my baby in my arms and feel her breathing, and then I'll know that they'll both be fine. And I can't do that for a while."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No."

"That's probably not helping. Why don't you go up to your old room and have a couple of hours now?"

"Mary might call."

"And if she does, you'll wake up and go home. Go on. Go and get some sleep. Lord knows, when you're living with a newborn there's not going to be much chance then!"

John smiled. "Would I be in your way if I slept on the sofa?"

"No. Not at all. I'm waiting for an email and I might take these down to the lab. Make yourself at home."

Sherlock left the flat half an hour later. John was still awake, but he was calm. Sherlock took the ears across town to St Bart's hospital. He handed them over to Molly who gently rebuked him for the lack of evidence bags and asked for an update on John. He finally received the email response in the cab on the way home, and he called Lestrade.

"You should call the Plymouth police and ask them to arrest James Browner for the murder of his wife and an associate of theirs, Mister Alex Fairbairn. Browner and Fairbairn are both navy men. You can let the Plymouth Police or the Naval police deal with him, or you can have him shipped up here."

"Have you heard from John?"

"John's gone insane. Look, if you did want to get Browner up here to question him, I wouldn't mind sitting in."

"OK. I'll call you when he's here."

"Fine." Sherlock hung up and thought about things.

When he got back to the flat, John was snoring gently on the sofa. He walked past him and whiled away a happy hour at his computer. The peace was interrupted when John's phone rang, sounding extremely loud in the quiet of the flat. John startled, woke up and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?" He wiped his hand over his face. "OK. Well, how are you feeling?... Well that sounds promising… No, love, don't get upset, you're doing fine. You really are. It's fine… OK. I'm going to come home now, OK?… Yes, I promise I won't be mental. I'm sorry about earlier, I really am, but I want to be there with you now... OK. I'll be there soon. I love you."

He hung up and looked at Sherlock. "I'm going home. Do you want me to call you when we're going into the hospital?"

"Yes. Please do."

"Right then." John got up and headed for the door.

"John?"

"Mm?"

"Good luck."

John grinned. "OK." He headed back out.

Sherlock watched him through the window. He was walking normally and seemed quite capable of hailing a cab. Sherlock nodded, satisfied. He closed his computer and went downstairs. After a brief knock he let himself into Mrs Hudson's flat.

"Mrs Hudson?"

"I'm in the kitchen dear!"

"Good. Do you have any food? I'm starving." He opened her biscuit tin and was pleased that it was well stocked. She had been known to empty it and leave a note reading 'buy your own!', but not usually if he was working or upset about something.

"Have you finished a case?"

"Pretty much. There might be an interview but I don't really care." He ate a biscuit and took a cup of tea from her. "Mary's in labour."

"Oh!" Mrs Hudson squealed. "Oh that's so exciting! Oh, I need to cook them some cake and casseroles." She started going through her cupboards.

"Should I be cooking for them too?"

"No, Dear. I really don't think so."

Sherlock sighed. "John's extremely stressed. How will he be able to cope with a child if he can't cope with the labour? Actually having a child must be far more stressful."

"Oh, he'll be fine, Sherlock. It's just the labour is worrying him. He's probably thinking about that time in the cave, that's all."

"What time in what cave?"

"That time he had to deliver that baby in that cave with hardly any light and a bunch of angry Afghanis coming to get them."

"He never told me about that! He never said! What happened in the end?"

"He doesn't know. I think that's one of the things that bothers him about it."

"He never told me," Sherlock said quietly.

"I don't think he's delivered a lot of babies. He says that most of the ones he watched as a student were quite straight forward, so having to do it like that shocked him a bit."

"Mm. I wish I'd known that before."

"Before what?"

"Before I shouted at him a bit. He was being really very silly though."

"Oh, Sherlock!"

"Well he was." He ate some more biscuits as Mrs Hudson worked around him. "Is there something I should be doing? I mean, when does the godless-parent thing start? Now?"

"Probably not until the baby's born. You might want to have a gift ready to take though."

"A gift?"

"Yes. A teddy-bear or something, for when you meet her."

"Huh." His phone beeped with a text.

"Oh! Is that news?"

"No, it's from Mary. She says 'thank you'."

Mrs Hudson smiled at him. "Well, you seem to be doing well enough with the godless-father thing then. Now go away. I'm busy and you're in my way."

Sherlock grabbed a handful of biscuits and left her alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sherlock spent some more time at his computer, and some more wandering around the shops on Oxford Street. It was nearly lunchtime when he Lestrade called him to tell him that James Browner was in police custody at Scotland Yard, that he had been processed and that he was ready for questioning should Sherlock wish to come along.

Sherlock agreed half-heartedly and went to find a cab.

He was still en route when he got a text.

'_Things progressing well, going to hospital now. John.'_

He nodded to himself but didn't respond in any other way.

He walked up to Lestrade's office and let himself in. Lestrade was working through a pile of paperwork. He nodded at him.

"John's taking Mary to the hospital now. He says it's all going well."

Lestrade smiled. "Good. Thank you. Shall we go and see Browner?" Sherlock shrugged. "You could go and pace at the hospital if you prefer."

"Don't be ridiculous. You asked for information and I provided you with information. I'm not interested in Mary's labour at all."

"Right. Of course. Let's go then."

They met Browner in a little interview room down on the first floor, not far from the holding cells. He was slumped in his chair, staring at his hands that were spread out on the table. He was looking dishevelled and exhausted. His solicitor was with him, as short, neat man, was sat next to him. He stood up to shake Lestrade's and Sherlock's hands as they came into the room.

"My client has informed me that he wishes to make a full statement to you. I hope that his willingness to assist the police into their enquiries is taken into account."

"Noted," Lestrade said. James Browner didn't move at all. He looked shell-shocked. "Mister Browner, yesterday morning, two ears were sent through the post to Miss Susan Cushing. Can you…" He stopped as Browners head popped up, surprised.

"To Susan… No! I mean, no… I didn't."

"Are you denying your involvement?"

"No. No, I sent them. I sent them to that witch, Sarah though. I didn't send them to Susan. Susan's dull but OK. I sent them to Sarah… I don't even know why now."

Lestrade nodded. "OK, why don't you start at the beginning. If you still want to make a statement, I'm happy to hear it."

Browner looked from him to Sherlock and back again. He nodded. "OK. Six years ago I met my wife Mary. She was working in the bakers I used to go to when I was stationed in London. She was… she was wonderful. She was so pretty and so happy. I was amazed that she'd even think of giving me the time of day, but she did. I thought it was just kindness at first, but she… she asked me out on a date. Well, I went, of course, and we were just… We were so happy together. I know people are going to judge me harshly, but I just want to remember how happy we were in the beginning." He stopped and looked up at Lestrade. "May I please have some water?"

Lestrade nodded. He went into the corridor and quickly returned. "She's going to get some. Can you continue for now?"

Browner nodded. "We got married. It was fast. Just the four weeks we had to wait and no time to arrange anything nice. I was going away you see. It was really small. There was me, and a buddy, and Mary and her sisters. Susan had arranged a nice frock for Mary, and there were flowers, but that was it. We said we'd arrange something proper when I was hope again. We never did though. She went back home to her old house, and I went away. It was six months, but we wrote and skyped each other every week. I missed her badly, but she kept me laughing every time we spoke and with packages and stuff."

He broke off as a young woman carried a jug of water and some glasses into the room. When she'd gone, he drank some water and continued.

"I came home and I'd moved stations to Portsmouth. My posting was to last two years, so I arranged for a flat and Mary came down to live with me. It was great! It was the happiest time I can ever imagine. The only think that made it hard was that we wanted a child and that didn't happen. Well, I suppose it's for the best now. Anyhow, just before the end of my two years, I was asked to go away again. This time for a year. I was a bit worried about leaving Mary alone for so long, but she didn't want to move home. The hope was that she'd stay where she was until I got home and we'd just continue living in Portsmouth.

"I was surprised that she got so down so quickly. I think that she'd been a bit disappointed, not just with the baby thing, but with a couple of jobs that didn't work out for her. I hated being away from her. I'd have walked away from the navy entirely but we needed my salary. About a month after I'd gone away, she said that her sister Sarah was down visiting and she seemed a bit better then. She asked what I thought of Sarah staying around until I got back, and seeing as she was so much brighter, I agreed. It was the worst decision I'd ever made.

"Mary and I kept talking to each other like before, but things started happening that I didn't like. Mary started going out with Sarah a lot. She got very drunk a couple of times and I didn't like that. I… well, I took to drink too. Probably more than her. I was disciplined for it twice. The last few months of that tour were utter hell. I stuck it out though and came home. I was so glad to have Mary back in my arms again!

"The thing is… well, I'd have expected Sarah to make a move quite quickly after I got back, but weeks went by and she didn't seem to be starting to pack up. I felt really restricted. The two of them kept going out together and they'd come back laughing and drunk and I hated it. Mary got cross with me, saying she only went out to try and get a man for Sarah, but I didn't believe it. I started having my fun… I would drink too on the nights we went out. But I'd stay in. She'd get back drunk and loud and we'd fight about it.

"One argument was really bad, and I hit her. I know I shouldn't have done, but I was angry out of my mind! She slept in Sarah's room that night. Sarah came into mine though. I thought she was going to give me a piece of her mind about Mary, but she didn't. She… she suggested I was just stressed and tense because I was…" He blushed and stopped talking.

"Mister Browner, are you suggesting that Sarah Cushing made an improper suggestion to you?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes! Yes that's what she did!"

"And how did you respond?"

"I… I don't think I remember. I don't remember much but… I might have had sex with her that night. I don't know for sure! But she said I did, and I don't remember."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stared into the corner, clearly bored. Lestrade ignored him.

"And when was this?"

"Um, I think it was around September."

"And what happened afterwards? Did you all go on to live happily together?"

"Well yeah. It was a problem. Sarah wouldn't leave! She kept coming on to me and making suggestions. She'd laugh at me when I told her to stop. She said she'd tell Mary everything. I hated it. Things had got bad between Mary and me too. We were barely talking half the time. Then Sarah kept going on about a 'friend' of Mary's. This bloke called Alex Fairbairn. She said they'd been friendly when we were away too. She told me stuff about them. I didn't believe it of my Mary.

"But then about a month ago, I gave up. I snapped! I said that Sarah had to leave and I wouldn't take any excuse from her. I said she had to get the hell out! She cried and she told me she had nowhere to go. I told her I didn't care. She called the other sister, Susan and she told her she had to come back and that I was an awful man. God knows what else she told her…"

Sherlock's phone rang. The solicitor shook his head at the intrusion, but Sherlock ignored him. He checked the ID, and he walked into the hall to answer it.

"John?"

"Yeah, Sherlock, er, it's John."

"Yes, I know."

"Yes, I just said." He giggled. "Sorry, erm, well, I'm a Dad now!"

Sherlock grinned broadly. "Well done, John! And congratulations. Was it all straight forward?"

"Thanks. And yeah, it was fine. Mary did brilliantly! Could you do me a favour? Mary's starving and the food here is terrible. Is there any chance you can pick some sandwiches or something up and bring them in?"

"Well, I'm at work at the moment. I'm in an interview."

"Oh." There was silence for a moment. "Oh, OK, don't worry. I'll er, I'll..."

"No, wait! Sorry, John, I don't know what I was thinking! Of course I'll come in. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Absolutely! This is boring anyhow. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He hung up and looked at the interview room door. He decided he couldn't be bothered to explain to Lestrade so he just left them to it.

oOo

It took a while for Sherlock to find the Watson family at the hospital. He finally located John sitting in a visitor's chair by the bed in the corner of a small ward. He was looking blissful and cuddling a soft yellow blanket which, Sherlock deduced, probably contained a baby.

"John! I'm so sorry! I was as quick as I could be, but I needed…" He noticed Mary who seemed to be asleep. "Sorry!" he whispered.

"I'm not asleep," Mary said. "I'm just relaxing for a bit."

"Mary did brilliantly," John said. "Really, she was great. And look at this!" He nodded towards the baby.

Sherlock peered at it. "Very nice," he said. Feeling that something more was needed he continued; "Have you decided on a name for her yet?"

"Mm. Not really," John answered. "Unfortunately, none of our shortlist seems quite right for _him._"

Sherlock looked up at him, genuinely surprised. "Really?"

"Yes," Mary said. "It turns out that despite the twenty odd years my husband has spent in medicine, he can't read a sonogram."

John laughed. "I'm sorry! I did say it was only a second and it was hard to read."

"You were absolutely sure!" Sherlock said. He glanced at Mary. "You're not disappointed are you?"

"God no! Look at him! He's absolutely perfect!"

"Here, take him for a minute," John said.

"No! I might drop him!"

"Don't be silly." He shifted the baby slightly and stood up with him. Sherlock put a bag full of shopping down. "Here, put your hands out. That's right! Now, one hand under his head and one under his bum." He handed the baby across into Sherlock's hands.

Sherlock settled down. "What now?"

"Now you just have to not drop him." John said.

Sherlock lifted him slightly to peer at him more closely. His eyes were tightly shut and his mouth was amusingly pursed. One of his hands had escaped the blanket and was clenched in a tight fist. Sherlock smiled as he looked at it. He seemed like a perfectly ordinary baby, but Sherlock had a slight sense that he shouldn't say that.

"He's really very small," Sherlock said, looking closely at the tiny fist and calculating the size of each tiny finger segment.

"He's just over six pounds, so not too shabby considering he's nearly two weeks early."

"He's got brown hair. I didn't expect that."

"That's the least surprising thing about him if you ask me," John said. "Besides, it will probably get lighter when we've washed it and he's been in the sun a bit."

"I was at school with a boy called Cuthbert St John Sebastian Pridd. I strongly recommend you don't use any of those names."

The baby snuffled and waved for a second, then made a chirping, squeaking noise.

"He agrees," John said. "Here, give him back."

"No. You get to have him for the next eighteen years."

John grinned.

The baby opened his eyes and peered back at Sherlock. He was less than charmed and he wailed once. When this didn't get an immediate response he wailed again. John intervened and took him back. He handed him across to Mary who started unbuttoning her top to feed him. Sherlock quickly turned away.

"I brought you some food, Mary. It's just in the bag. I wasn't sure what you'd like so I brought lots."

"Thank you," she laughed. "You can turn around you know."

"Yes, I know." He didn't do so. "Here. This is a gift from me for him." He handed a small bag behind him.

John opened it to find four cloth blocks with different colours and textures on each side.

"They're lovely, Sherlock."

"Right. Good. I've been doing research and apparently it's good to stimulate them very early with colours and things. It helps brain development."

"Sherlock, he might be feeding for the next hour." Mary said. "You really can turn around. I'm perfectly decent."

"Well, I should be getting off now anyhow."

"OK. Well come and say goodbye to the baby then."

"Um…" He finally turned around. Mary was indeed perfectly decent, and John was perched on the bed, looking at her with a smile. "Well, goodbye Mary, and Unexpectedly-Male Watson. Congratulations again."

"Actually, Sherlock, could you take John home with you? I have to stay overnight and he'll be crawling up the walls at home on his own."

"I'll be fine," John muttered.

"How long do you have to stay in?" Sherlock asked Mary.

"Only until tomorrow. I'll be home then. Take John away for now though."

John leaned in to kiss Mary and the baby. He didn't appear to want to leave.

"I'll wait for you outside, John." Sherlock told him. On his way out of the ward, he glanced at the other occupants of the small plastic cots. He nodded, satisfied that John had clearly got the best one.

oOo

Sherlock waited outside the ward for a full twenty minutes before John appeared. He walked straight up to Sherlock.

"He is the most perfect baby ever, isn't he, Sherlock?"

"Yes, John. I think he probably is." He set off and John followed him, grinning madly.

Sherlock found a cab.

"The case was really dull by the way. Stupid jealous man killed his wife and her lover. He hadn't confessed by the time I left but he was getting there."

"OK." John stared out of the window. "I can't believe I've got a _son_!"

Sherlock giggled. "No. I can't either. I did not see that coming!"

John started flicking through screens on his phone. "I'm not sure I've got enough pictures of him."

"How many did you take?"

"Twelve."

"Well, that will probably cover you until tomorrow."

"Mm. We could call him Alexander. Or Benjamin. Or, I know! Maximillion! Max! My son Max! No, I don't like Max. Did he look like a Charlie to you? What would you call you son?"

Sherlock frowned at John. "John."

"Oh." John paused for a moment. "Well, no offense, Sherlock, but I'm not calling my son Sherlock. Or Sheridan."

"Well mine wouldn't be after you either. I just like the name."

"Oh. OK. 'John' isn't one of those dull names then?"

Sherlock grinned at him.

They pulled into Baker Street and John bounded out of the cab and started knocking on the door. Sherlock paid the cabbie just as Mrs Hudson opened the door for John.

"Mrs Hudson! It's a boy! It's a son! I have a son!"

She looked quite startled but John didn't notice and he pulled her into a huge hug.

"Oh that's lovely, John! But you can't have his cardigan yet. I'll need to replace the buttons tomorrow."

"Oh, Mrs Hudson! He's perfect!"

She moved aside and waved him into the house. Sherlock followed.

"Detective Lestrade is waiting for you, Sherlock."

"Urgh. Work."

John dashed upstairs. "Greg! Greg! I've got a son! A boy!"

Lestrade came out of Mrs Hudson's flat. "Was that John?"

"Yes. Mary's had the baby, in case you're wondering."

John bounded back down the steps. "Greg! It's a boy! A son! A boy!"

"Congratulations, Mate. Did it all go OK? Is Mary well?"

John sat down on the steps. "Mary's brilliant! And he might be… You know what, I've come across a lot of babies in my time at the clinic and stuff, and I know _all_ parents say this, but I'm a doctor so I have some objectivity, and he really is a _great_ baby! He is, I think, one of the finest babies I've ever seen. Sherlock thinks so too and he's not the Dad!"

Sherlock laughed and leaned against the wall.

"I've got pictures!" John said. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

"He's only got twelve though."

"Yeah, but don't worry! I'll get more tomorrow!" He handed the phone to Mrs Hudson who started looking through.

Lestrade took Sherlock aside. "He confessed to killing Mary Browner and Alex Fairbairn. The sister called him and suggested they were having an affair and gave him his address. He went round, his suspicions were confirmed, he killed them both, mutilated them, and sunk them in the sea from his boat and mailed their ears to Sarah out of spite. He didn't know she'd moved out of Sarah's house."

"Huh."

"You really don't care do you?"

Sherlock glanced over at John who was staring at the photos on his phone again and grinning.

"No. Not even slightly."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my very little surprise. And no, I have no idea what's coming next.**

**Pip xxx**


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